


Beneath the Armor

by LadyLibby



Series: Across the Stars [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Companion Piece, F/M, Fluff, Force-Sensitive!Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Mando is a big softie, Mutual Pining, Romance, The Force, its fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23132731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLibby/pseuds/LadyLibby
Summary: Y/N took a few shaky steps towards the Mandalorian. He watched her silently, willing himself to stand still.“It would,” Her hands were shaking, “It would bring me great peace of mind if you would use just a small portion of that money to buy the child a new set of clothing. I would…I would be happy knowing he’s comfortable and happy exploring the stars with you.”The Mandalorian nodded haltingly, surprised. He thought about the ewok toy, gratitude and guilt swirling within him.“I will.” He promised.“Good.” She smiled at him, a real, teeth-showing, radiant smile. “Take care, Mandalorian.”He smiled back, soft and sad. But she couldn’t see it.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, The Mandalorian/Reader, The Mandalorian/You
Series: Across the Stars [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660003
Comments: 14
Kudos: 369





	Beneath the Armor

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is a companion to my original fic, "A Clan of Three" that follows the events of the story, but told from the Mandalorian's perspective. I hope you like it!

I

“One cup of soup.” The Mandalorian slid a credit across the bar. 

“Nothing to drink? We make the best Agarian Ale in the parsec.” 

The Mandalorian remained silent, letting the bartender take in the formidable darkness of his visor for a moment. 

“Soup. Coming right up.” The bartender nodded, scurrying back to get a bowl. 

The Mandalorian returned to his table, ignoring the heads turning to stare as he walked past. His heart dropped as he found the table empty. His pulse picked up, instincts kicking in as he scanned the cantina. The Mandalorian didn’t have to search for long, quickly noticing the child across the crowded room. A woman picked him up and settled the child in her lap, looking around for his parent. 

The Mandalorian shouldered his way past tipsy miners and townspeople. The woman spoke to the man at her table, concern furrowing her brow. Her date just looked irritated at the interruption. 

“What kind of parent would bring a child here?” She said as the Mandalorian reached the table. 

As if sensing his presence, she turned. Her gaze tracked from his waist to his head, eyes widening at the sight of his armor and unmistakable helmet. 

“He finds trouble when I leave him alone.” 

She had intelligent eyes, and a sort of discerning look in her face that made him feel like she could see his face through the layers of beskar. The child babbled happily, reaching out for him. The Mandalorian picked up the child, holding him against his chest as he always did. 

“I didn’t mean to pass judgement on your parenting skills. I apologize.” The woman said with total sincerity. 

Her gaze made him feel too warm, too bulky in his armor, too...exposed. 

The Mandalorian simply inclined his head in the barest of nods before turning back to his table. He placed the child down on the bench beside him and tried to get him to eat but the child kept looking at the woman. The Mandalorian sighed, keeping his hand on the child so he wouldn’t run back over to her. He hazarded a glance at her table, intrigued to see that she was looking at him too. She turned quickly back, looking down at her hands. 

The Mandalorian focused back on the child. “Eat your soup.” 

He simply looked up with his big eyes and cooed before trying to wiggle out of the seat again. 

“Hey–no, stop.” The Mandalorian pulled him back. “Eat your soup.” 

The child looked at something over the Mandalorian’s shoulder, reaching his little hand out. The Mandalorian looked back, watching the woman as she walked past their table to the refreshers. 

“Stay here.” The Mandalorian said. “You can’t follow her in there.” 

Before the child could make another break for it, a male Twi'lek sat down on the other side of the table. 

“Mando.” 

“Jaskar.” 

“Thanks for meeting me, man.” He said, fiddling with the blaster at his hip. “This is a big one, I promise you won’t regret it.” 

“What’s the target?” 

“Runaway. Named Y/N L/N.” Jaskar said. “Former Imperial’s offering a lot for her to be brought back alive.” 

“How much?” 

Jaskar smirked. “Half would buy you a whole ship made of beskar, let alone a new set of armor.” 

The Mandalorian leaned back, stretching his arms out over the back of the bench. “Why offer to split it, then?” 

“I, uh–” Jaskar hesitated, “I’m not so good at the actual capturing part. I can track better than anyone in the Guild but I’m not exactly a fighter.” 

Jaskar paused. The Mandalorian let him squirm. 

“Look, I’ve tracked her long enough to know she settled here. I just need to find where exactly. She’s Force-sensitive, so she might be using that to hide somehow or she could like, trick us with her mind.” 

“Do you have a puck?” 

“Yeah, yeah. She’s decent looking, I understand why he wants her back so bad. If I had been promised I’d get to keep her in my bed until death do us part and all that, I’d be mad too.” 

Jaskar set the puck down, illuminating the hologram. The Mandalorian started slightly as he looked at her face. It was her–the woman from the other side of the cantina. Jaskar raised an eyebrow, noting the hunter’s reaction. 

“You know her?” 

“She just walked into the refresher.” 

“I knew this job was worth it.” Jaskar shot to his feet, triumphant smile already on his face as he thundered down the corridor to the refreshers. 

The Mandalorian grabbed the child, tucking him into his pack before following Jaskar. He heard glass shatter behind the refresher door. 

“In there!” Jaskar shouted, throwing his shoulder against the door. 

By the time it flew open the room was empty, cold air filtering in through the newly broken window. 

“Kriff.” Jaskar swore. “What do we do now?” 

~

The minute the cargo pilots saw the Mandalorian, they gave up. 

“She’s in the hangar.” 

The Mandalorian gestured silently to Jaskar as they moved to flank the entrance. She moved fast, he had to admit, but he was too good. He caught her just as she passed into the starlight, wrapping around her middle and covering her mouth. She screamed against his glove, struggling against his grip. She felt abnormally strong–hadn’t Jaskar said something about the Force? The Mandalorian held tight. 

“Stop fighting.” He pleaded, remembering the gentle way she’d held the child. 

The memory distracted him enough to let her elbow hit the small patch of chest covered only by fabric instead of beskar. He grunted at the contact grip loosening momentarily. 

Y/N leapt away from him, stumbling to her knees. The Mandalorian pulled his blaster, holding it to her head. The metal felt heavier than usual. 

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” He warned. 

Jaskar stalked over to them. He grabbed her arms roughly, pulling her to her feet. He pulled his own blaster, pressing it harshly against her side. 

“You’re worth more alive, but they didn’t say anything about injured, so I’d be careful if I were you.” Jaskar threatened, mouth far too close to her throat. 

His hand trailed up her hip, grazing the swell of her breast. She grimaced, struggling against Jaskar’s grip. The Mandalorian’s stomach twisted. He stepped closer, ready to pull Jaskar away. 

“I’ll cooperate.” She said quickly, spitting the words out. “Just don’t fucking touch me, creep.” 

“Watch it.” Jaskar hissed, but put enough space between them so the blaster was at the base of her spine. 

“I’ll take her in the Razor Crest.”

The Mandalorian walked past them, leading the way through the yard to his ship so he didn’t have to look at her resigned expression.

“Nice ship,” Jaskar said. “Good condition for such an old model. Wish I had one of these...” 

The Mandalorian pulled the release switch, lowering the entrance ramp. The child wriggled in his pack, babbling in confusion and distress at the sight of the woman. The Mandalorian hushed him, and placing him on a bench. 

Jaskar spoke casually, “Listen, Mando, I think we need to re-negotiate the rewards–” 

He moved quickly, firing the blaster. The bolt struck the Mandalorian in the side, pain shooting through him. He flew backwards, the impact of the ground dulled by the searing agony of his flesh. 

“ –I think I’ll take the credits _ and _ your ship.” The other hunter mused, wrinkling his nose at the despairing cries of the child. “Not the little greenie though, he’s too ugly.” 

The hunter leveled the blaster again, taking aim. The Mandalorian’s vision swam, but his thoughts sharpened. He grimaced, reaching for his blaster. He pulled the trigger, stopping Jaskar before he could shoot. He was vaguely aware of Y/N a few feet away, her body curled around the child like a shield. 

The Mandalorian groaned, the back of his helmet hitting the floor. Warm blood dripped against the metal floor, smeared against the smooth beskar. He tried to focus on his breathing, to enjoy the last gasps he had left when he felt her hands on his skin. 

“What–” He groaned at the pain. 

“Shhh.” She covered the wound with her hands, applying pressure. 

The pain dissipated like clouds clearing after a storm, sudden and clarifying. The Mandalorian sighed, too relieved to wonder at the strange sensation of his skin piecing back together. She crumpled to the ground beside him, her hands slipping away like his consciousness. 

II

The Mandalorian awoke with a start several hours later. He sat up, pressing a hand to his side. The fabric of his undershirt was burned beyond repair but his skin was entirely healed. No blood, not even a scar. 

Y/N lay on the floor beside him, motionless. He reached for her, his heartbeat echoing inside his helmet. The Mandalorian checked her pulse, calming slightly to find it. Weak, but still there. He stood, lifting her limp body in his arms and carrying her deeper into the ship. He laid her gently in his sleeping quarters with an old brown blanket. He fed the child and left him in his alcove while he dealt with the mess. 

The Mandalorian took Y/N’s bounty puck from Jaskar’s body before rolling him off the entrance ramp. He mopped up the blood and changed his undershirt before sitting in the cockpit and opening the puck. Her face was tinted blue in the hologram, stats and information blinking beside the image. 

Moff Arceales wanted his runaway bride back. But the runaway bride had saved the Mandalorian’s life...not to mention she’d been willing to die for his child.

But the Imperial was offering more money than the Mandalorian had ever seen before. He focused on the number instead of her eyes, putting the puck away and punching in the coordinates for Bastantha. 

A few hours later, he heard her footsteps in the sleeping quarters. The Mandalorian set the ship to autopilot before climbing up to his room. 

She held the child in her arms as they looked out the window together at the passing stars. 

“It is something, isn’t it?” She said gently, voice laced with sadness. 

The child cooed, reaching forward to touch the window. The cold glass grew cloudy, leaving the imprint of three fingers. She reached out, resting her hand beside the child’s, leaving her own mark. 

The Mandalorian stepped forward into the doorway. “You’re awake.” 

The child reached for him. He stepped inside but she met him halfway, passing the baby over. The child pulled gently at the material around the Mandalorian’s neck, gurgling. 

“Where are we going?” She said, staring at him with her discerning gaze.

“I don’t need to tell you.” 

Y/N looked down at her feet, taking a shaky breath. He felt a pang of guilt, shifting slightly on his feet. She took another breath, looking back up at him. 

“I know I’m not exactly in a position to be making requests,” She said, staring into his eyes behind the visor. “But could I have some water? I haven’t had anything to drink since the cantina.”

The Mandalorian inclined his head in a half-nod. He turned, happy to lead her to the kitchen so she would stop staring directly into his eyes. She didn’t ask for a cup, simply running the water into her hands and drinking. She splashed a little on her face. 

He stood a few feet away, unable to stop watching her. She took one more drink before turning to face him again. The Mandalorian avoided her gaze, leading her down to the cargo bay. 

“You can wait here.” He said, walking over to leave the child in his alcove. “Don’t touch anything.”

He managed to focus on flying for a while longer, until the nav system warned him that their arrival was imminent. The Mandalorian climbed down to the bottom of the ship. The child bounced happily by her knees, holding a homemade toy. 

The Mandalorian couldn’t contain his surprise. “Is that an Ewok?” 

Y/N jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. “It’s supposed to be. He needed a toy.” 

“I told you not to touch anything.” 

“It was my shirt. I don’t think that counts.” 

The child toddled over to the Mandalorian, lifting up the doll. He accepted it, inspecting the needlework before giving it back to the child. It was well-made and – she was right – much needed. 

“What is his name?” She asked, watching him play. 

“He has no name.” 

Y/N turned, staring into the shining beskar of his helmet. “Like father, like son.” 

Heat traveled up, pricking the back of his neck and making his armor feel too tight, too uncomfortable. He didn’t like this sense of being known so easily. 

“We’re almost there.” He managed before turning away and fleeing back to the cockpit. 

~

Moff Arceales stood at the end of the entrance ramp, smiling. His hair was as white as the stormtroopers that surrounded him. He held out his hands, an inviting gesture that made the Mandalorian want to turn right around and escort Y/N back onto his ship. He kept one hand firm on her arm and the other as close to his blaster as he could. 

“Oh, how I have missed you, my pet.” Arceales said, stepping closer. 

Arceales caressed Y/N’s cheek with the back of his hand. The Mandalorian watched as she pressed her lips together, trying not the flinch. Arceales looked at the Mandalorian’s hand, irritation clouding his features. 

“The payment.” The Mandalorian said. 

“Yes, yes, of course. Give the man his money.” Arceales waved his hand to the troopers as if the fortune he was about to hand over were of no consequence.

A trooper advanced, carrying two thick cases. He presented them to Arceales, who opened them so the Mandalorian could verify the contents. 

“It is all there, Mandalorian.” Areales said. “You have my word. Now let me have my bride.” 

The Mandalorian forced himself to let go. He felt sick at the sight of Arceales smiling, pulling her towards him. The Imperial held her face in his hands, studying you for a moment before striking her harshly across the face. 

“That was for leaving me.” Arceales growled. “I know it wasn’t your fault, my darling. That infernal healer woman deluded you. But she’s long dead now. 

He rubbed her cheek. “You should have come back.” 

She stared straight ahead, silent. The Mandalorian’s hands curled into fists at his sides as the Imperial hit her again. 

“I said you should have come back.” He repeated, voice low and dark. 

“I should have come back.” She said, voice weak. “I’m sorry, sir.” 

“Good girl.” He squeezed your hip. “It is a pity your parents didn’t live to see our wedding day, pet, but then they weren’t all that enthusiastic about the match, as I recall.” 

Tears slipped down her cheeks. The Mandalorian’s throat felt tight. Areales smiled his crooked smile and wiped them away with his wrinkled fingers. 

“Don’t cry, my pet, we will be married before the morning. And finally I shall have you.” He nodded to the Mandalorian. “Your work here is done, bounty hunter.” 

She inhaled sharply, turning to Arceales. “May I speak to him for a moment? I wish to thank him...for returning me to my proper home.” 

He looked between her and the Mandalorian for a moment before letting you go. “Yes, alright. But be quick.” 

“Thank you.” 

Y/N took a few shaky steps towards the Mandalorian. He watched her silently, willing himself to stand still. 

“It would,” Her hands were shaking, “It would bring me great peace of mind if you would use just a small portion of that money to buy the child a new set of clothing. I would...I would be happy knowing he’s comfortable and happy exploring the stars with you.” 

The Mandalorian nodded haltingly, surprised. He thought about the ewok toy, gratitude and guilt swirling within him. 

“I will.” He promised. 

“Good.” She smiled at him, a real, teeth-showing, radiant smile. “Take care, Mandalorian.” 

He smiled back, soft and sad. But she couldn’t see it. The Mandalorian picked up his money and trudged back to the ship. With careful, measured movements, he sat in the pilot’s chair and turned on the engines. 

The Mandalorian made it about twenty minutes outside of orbit when the child crawled into his lap with tears dripping down his chubby green cheeks. He held the ewok toy towards his father, wailing. 

The Mandalorian hit his fist against the control panel. “Kriff!” 

The child hiccupped, shocked at the outburst. The Mandalorian yanked the hyperdrive control, turning the Razor Crest around. 

Getting her out was the easy part. Tracking her down, fighting his way in, running with her back to the ship, that was all second nature. The aftermath and its sudden reality...that was different. 

She laughed, buoyed by the exhilaration of escape. She looked at him, her head resting against the co-pilot’s chair. 

“Why did you come back?”

His heart pounded, mind racing for the answer. He managed to look at her, her gaze again finding his eyes behind the visor. 

“I need a babysitter.” 

III

The Mandalorian sunk into the pilot’s chair, taking a breath. He kept his gaze straight ahead even as Y/N moved to sit beside him. 

She’d turned her blue wedding robes into a more practical pair of pants and shirt. He’d also noticed the child’s clean new robe, boasting her impeccable needlework. He liked her in blue. Another reason not to look at her. 

“We need to discuss our arrangement.” She said as he turned on the engines.

The Mandalorian didn’t reply, focusing on sending the ship into hyperdrive. He hoped that if he continued in silence, she might leave him alone. It had worked so far...

“I’ve done my best to care for the child with what we have on board, but this won’t work long-term.” He could feel her challenging stare. “I—the child and I both need to leave the ship sometimes. Fresh air and exercise are necessary for his development, and speaking candidly, also my sanity. A small budget for a wider variety of food stores would ensure he’s getting the proper nutrition, and if we continue to visit different planets as we have, he’ll need clothing appropriate for the weather...and so will I.” 

The Mandalorian leaned forward to twist a dial on the navigation console. She was capable and smart. That much was obvious. Why did she need to talk to him about this? Why did she have to make him feel so...nervous? 

“If you’re worried about the money, I have some of my own credits saved and I know how to fashion clothes from cloth, so we’d save the expense of a tailor.” 

After a few moments of silence, the Mandalorian finally managed to look at her. “Tomorrow we’ll stop at Horuz for repairs and fuel. You and the child can come with me to find lodging.” 

She nodded, watching the stars streak past. “I’ll be in the cargo hold if you need me.” 

Once her footsteps faded on the level below, the Mandalorian exhaled deeply. 

~

“How much for two yards of this one?” Y/N asked, gesturing to a sturdy grey fabric. 

“Thirty credits.” 

“I’ll give you ten.” She bargained, “Fibers like these are prone to fading.” 

“Twenty-five is the best I can do.” 

The Mandalorian watched her carefully, noting the measured inhale as she readied herself. She was a force to be reckoned with. He smiled. 

“Twenty, or I take my business elsewhere.” She crossed your arms, staring the vendor down. 

The vendor squirmed for a moment. “Sold.” 

While the vendor cut and wrapped the fabric, she pulled out a handful of credits, counting the sum. The Mandalorian frowned, stepping forward. He took her hand gently, stopping her. He handed the vendor some money in exchange for the cloth. 

“I believe I promised to use the credits from your reward to buy clothes for the child.” The Mandalorian said, tucking the roll of cloth under his arm. 

“I’m glad to see you’re a man of your word, Mando.” 

She smiled at him. He smiled back. 

The three of them ventured further into the market. The Mandalorian found he enjoyed the menial task of shopping more than usual. The two of them fell into a rhythm: she would offer a bargain and he would stand behind her and look menacing. It worked like a charm. He felt at ease, approaching a metalworker’s stall and inspecting the knives. Y/N wandered over with the child. The Mandalorian watched her in his peripheral vision as she ran her fingers over a delicate silver chain, admiring the intricate tree pendant at the bottom. After a moment she let go, shaking her head. 

“What kind of baby is that?” 

She turned around, faced with a gaggle of children, all staring at the child with curiosity. Y/N looked at the Mandalorian, unsure of how to answer. He just shrugged, turning back to take advantage of the distraction. 

“I’d like this blade and the tree necklace.” He said, paying for the items quickly. 

The children ran off. He closed his palm around the jewelry as Y/N turned back to him, laughing. 

“Kids, huh?” She said. 

The child gurgled, patting her shoulder. She shifted, re-adjusting the straps of the pack. 

“I’ll carry him.” The Mandalorian said quickly. 

“Thank you,” She smiled, taking the pack off and setting the child at your feet. “See what you can fit in here. I don’t want you to carry everything.” 

The Mandalorian packed the cloth and the food away, slipping the necklace inside. He helped her put the pack back on. 

Hidden behind the helmet the next morning, he smiled to see Y/N wearing the tree pendant proudly against her heart. 

IV

He should not have taken the job. Assassins were always worth a lot of money but they always put up a fight. This one more than usual. 

The Mandalorian trudged through the forest, limping on his good leg. Tiny white lights dancing and swirled in the air around him. He hoped absently that they were lightning bugs and not his consciousness steadily slipping away. The Mandalorian tightened his jaw, grimacing after every step. 

Finally, the Razor Crest loomed in the distance, relieving some of the pain. Or maybe that was her. 

Y/N ran to him. Her speed reminded him how fast she’d run away from him that night in the Cantina. He smiled slightly at the memory while she grabbed his arm and put it over her shoulder to help him walk. 

“Where are you hurt?” 

“I’ll be fine.” He managed through the pain. 

“Where are you hurt?” She repeated, voice firm. 

Her body pressed against him, strong and steady in its support. The Mandalorian leaned on her, letting her share his burden. 

“My leg is the worst.” He admitted. 

She nodded, silently helping him into the ship and down onto the bench. Agony shot through him as he sat. He couldn’t stifle a groan as he tried to extend his leg. Y/N wasted no time. By the time his vision had cleared and he’d gotten his breath somewhat under control, she’d already worked his boot off and rolled up his pant leg to look at the wound. 

She put her hands over the bleeding gash, closing her eyes. The first soothing sparks of relief were wonderful but he couldn’t stop the images of her exhausted form laying limp beside him. 

“Stop.” He ordered. 

Y/N looked up at him in confusion. His heart ached at the openness of her gaze, her willingness to help him at the cost of her own strength. 

“I can heal you.” She argued. 

“It drains you.” He argued. “Use the cauterizer.” 

She sighed, but did as he asked. 

“At least let me do something about the pain.” She said, holding the whirring tool in her hand. 

“Fine. Just get it over with.” 

She held his leg with one hand, sending relieving waves of calm across his skin. It dulled the pain some, but not entirely. He set his jaw, gripping the bench to stay still and quiet while she worked. After what felt like several hours but what must have been just a few minutes, she sat back. He let out his breath, chest heaving. 

“How did it happen?” She asked, using a bacta spray before tearing a strip of bandage and covering the gash.

“The target evaded me a few times.” He said. “When I finally found him, he put up a bit of a fight.” 

“Still lost, though.” She smiled. “Any more injuries I should look at?” 

“There’s a small cut on my shoulder.” He said, hissing as he grazed the cut with his fingers. 

She moved closer to look at it, gently shifting the material of his shirt to see it. 

“I need to clean it.” She said, removing his chest plate carefully. “You’ll need to take off your shirt.” 

He didn’t move. He couldn’t. Not with her so close, face to face, chest to chest, and breath to breath. 

She sighed, crossing her arms. “Mando, come on. It could get infected–” 

“Turn around and don’t turn back until I tell you.” He said before he could stop himself. 

“What?” 

“Just do as I say.” 

“Fine.” She turned around. 

His hands shook with anticipation. She wouldn’t turn around. He knew she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t turn around no matter how curious she was because he has asked her not to. Simple as that. 

The Mandalorian pressed the release on his helmet, pulling it off with a hiss of air. He stared at her back, unfiltered by the helmet. His shoulder protested as he took off his shirt, but he barely felt the pain this time. His body thrummed with left-over adrenaline and newfound nervousness. 

For just a second he wished she would give in, wished she would turn around. But that was not the way. This is the way. He put the helmet back on. 

“Turn around.” 

He felt so vulnerable and exposed beneath her gaze he might as well have left the helmet off. She froze, staring at his chest and arms openly, tracing the curves, lines and scars with her eyes. It took everything in him not to squirm. 

Y/N cleared her throat, cleaning and covering his wound with careful, measured movements. 

“There,” She said. “All done.” 

She didn’t pull away immediately. Her hand rested on his shoulder, soft and cool against his hot skin. The Mandalorian inhaled shakily, wanting more, wanting– 

She pulled away. “Are you still in pain?” 

“No.” He breathed. “No, I’m not.” 

She stared into his helmet, finding his eyes behind the visor. He was on the edge of something, caught between falling into the unknown and stepping back to safety. And the gravity in her eyes was so strong. 

He stepped back. Without looking at her, he picked up his shirt and armor. 

“Good night, Y/N.” 

~

The child wouldn’t stop crying. Thunder crashed outside. Lightning lit up the sky. The child wailed. 

The Mandalorian took him out of his sleep pod and held him in the bed, patting his head gently. Still, he cried, squirming and refusing to sleep. Exhausted and feeling on the verge of tears himself, the Mandalorian got up and went down the cargo bay. 

Y/N lay on the bench, – which didn’t look very comfortable – tracing the design of her silver pendant. Another clap of thunder sounded beyond the ship. The Mandalorian moved closer, putting a hand on her shoulder. She shot up in surprise. 

“The child will not go to sleep.” He explained.

Her gaze softened.  __ “The storm?” 

“He’s afraid of the thunder.” The Mandalorian explained, “Normally he’s fine if I let him sleep in my bed, but tonight…” 

“I’m on it.” She nodded, leading the way back up to the bedroom. 

The child was instantly calmed at the sight of her, reaching out for her embrace. She picked him up and rocked him until he quieted. The Mandalorian was too tired to feel jealous. He had more admiration for her ease with the child than anything else. 

“I’ll stay in the cargo hold tonight.” The Mandalorian said, turning to leave. 

The child began to cry again, reaching out to the Mandalorian. 

“I think he wants both of us.” She said, glancing at the bed. “Is that…?” 

“Fine.” The Mandalorian sighed, desperate for sleep. 

Y/N got in first, laying against the wall with the child in the middle of the bed. The Mandalorian lay down on the other side, facing inward. 

Thunder rolled across the sky, making the child shrink away. The Mandalorian reached for him at the same moment as she did, their hands colliding over the child’s stomach. He heard her breath hitch slightly at the contact. She looked away, moving her hand to the child’s head, brushing back his wispy hair. 

The Mandalorian watched her from behind the visor, smiling slightly as she sang softly, trying to draw the child’s attention away from the storm. After a few minutes, the child’s eyes fell closed, sound asleep. Her eyes remained open, staring at the Mandalorian. 

“What?” he whispered, tempted to ask how she knew where his eyes were. 

“I was…” She hesitated. “The child and I visited the library today. I did some reading...I think I found out what he is.” 

“He is a foundling.” The Mandalorian said. 

“I know. And one day he’ll be a Mandalorian.” She said, and he felt a swell of pride in his chest. “But he’s also a very rare species. The only other known on record was a male named Yoda.” 

The Mandalorian was quiet, considering the merits of sharing his thought aloud. “Yodito.” 

“Hmm?” 

“We could...we could call him Yodito.” He said, unsure.

“I love it.” She said. “Yodito.” 

She rolled onto your back, grinning at the ceiling. A few moments of silence passed before she turned back, opening your mouth to speak. 

“Go to sleep.” He said, grinning. 

~

The Mandalorian pulled his blanket tighter around his body, exhaling in the frigid air. The child cooed as he crawled in from his sleep pod, protesting the cold of Hoth. The Mandalorian thought about Y/N, all alone in the cargo bay with her tiny threadbare blanket. He thought about waking up with her in his arms again. 

He got up and went to her, saying something about the child being cold and needing help going to sleep. She didn’t need much convincing, coming up with him. He awoke the next morning with her head nestled against his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her, both warm and cozy. He said nothing about it, and neither did she. 

The next night, he moved her blanket to his bed before he could talk himself out of it. He knew she saw the child already asleep in his pod. 

She climbed in first and lay on her back. He followed, leaving several inches between them. His heart pounded, hoping she wouldn’t ask what he wanted because he didn’t have those answers for himself yet. 

Instead, she let her hand fall to her side, filling the space between them. He took a deep breath and intertwined his fingers with hers. 

V

The Mandalorian lay in bed, legs tangled in hers with her hands on his chest, tracing shapes against his skin. He felt close to that edge again, pulled by gravity into unknown territory. Leaning a little further, he took her hand in his, stopping her movement. Slowly and carefully, he brushed his fingers against her skin. 

_ D...I...N… _

She looked up at him, nodding for him to go on. 

_ D...J...A…R…I...N _

“Din Djarin.” The words were music in her voice. 

He pulled his hand back, letting it rest over his heart.

“Din Djarin.” She repeated, understanding. 

He pulled on his armor, tying the straps carefully. She stood by the bed, making silly faces at Yodito. 

“Stay close to the cantina.” He said. 

“Yes, sir.” She gave him a lopsided smile. 

He fiddled with the seam of his glove, stepping closer to her. He brushed her hair away from her face. She put her arms on his shoulders. 

“We haven’t spent a lot of the credits from your reward.” He said. “What do you think about taking a few days off from hunting?” 

“I’d like that.” She smiled. 

“I’ll be back soon.” 

~

Din walked out of the cantina, tucking the pouch of credits into his pocket. He walked around to the back where he’d left you and the child just an hour earlier. 

The children he’d heard laughing and playing now clung to their mothers’ legs, faces pale and stricken. One of them held Yodito to her chest, trying unsuccessfully to calm his whimpers. Din’s instincts kicked in immediately, his senses heightened and alert. He picked up the child, cradling him to his chest. 

“Where is she?” 

The woman’s eyes darted from the ground to the horizon and back, avoiding looking directly into his helmet. She didn’t answer his question. 

He stepped closer, voice low and dangerous. “Where is she?” 

“They took her.” Another woman said. “Hunters. They knocked her out and took her away.” 

“Which way?” 

She pointed out into the dunes, towards one of the landing pads. Din didn’t stop to thank her. He just ran. 

By the time he saw the ship take off, it was too late. He was too far away. The Mandalorian slowed to a stop, panting as he watched the battered machine rise shakily into the air. 

Then it exploded. 

He felt like someone had punched him in the gut. His breath caught in his throat as he fell to his knees in the red sand. Debris rained down onto the desert as he regained his breath. He stood, numbly, and walked back to the ship. 

The closer he got to the Razor Crest, the more he saw her. Her face, her hands, her smile. He saw her with the child. He saw her asleep beside him. He saw her teasing him. He saw her sewing a new toy. At the market, in the cockpit, in her wedding dress. 

He wanted to explode too. 

He wanted to disappear into tiny bits and pieces because  _ he loved her.  _ He loved her and now she was gone. 

He walked up the entrance ramp and lost it. He grabbed anything he could find and destroyed it. He threw boxes, kicked the walls, and tore through shelves. 

Din fell to his knees and screamed. He dropped forward, shoulders sagging as he sobbed. 

“Din?” 

His heart hammered at the sound of her voice. He shot to his feet. She stood there, dusty and battered, but alive. He stepped forward. Then he stepped back, sure that she was a dream. 

“You’re...you’re alive.” 

She held out her arms. “Seems like it. I jumped before they took off all the way.” 

“I saw the ship explode. I thought…” He stumbled over his words, emotion weighing heavily on his voice. “You were gone.” 

“I’m here.” She said, voice quiet. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

He closed the distance between them in an instant, crushing her against his chest. After a moment he pulled back, staring at her. His thoughts whirled as he stood on the edge, looking out. 

“Wait here.” He said. 

He disappeared to the upper level for a moment, returning with a strip of cloth. 

“Do you trust me?” He asked

“Without question.” 

He moved behind her, pulling the cloth over her eyes and tying it at the back of her head. He stood in front of her, tiptoeing along the edge. Then he jumped. 

Din released his helmet, pulling it off. He took her hands in his, and brought them up to his face. She gasped, tracing everything from his brow to his lips. His heart hammered against his chest, a wild bird seeking escape from its cage. 

“Y/N,” He breathed. “Y/N, I–” 

“It’s okay.” She let her arms rest around his shoulders, playing with the curls at the back of his neck. “I know.” 

“No, you don’t.” He said. 

He took her face in his hands. He hesitated for just a moment, searching his emotions and finding that there was no other way than this. He kissed her, holding her close. 


End file.
